


embrace

by fatal_drum



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Child Abuse, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 17:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19233448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatal_drum/pseuds/fatal_drum
Summary: Stories of those who serve the Entities, and their becoming.





	embrace

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by @cuttooth's theory that the true monster in Peter's home wasn't Forsaken.

The first clue is the sound of breaking glass. It’s quickly followed by muffled swearing, and a shouted, “Boy!”

For some reason,  _boy_  never refers to Peter’s brothers. They don’t talk back like he does, don’t have their mother’s dark curls and square jaw. They don’t have his knack for  _getting in the way,_  which is all Peter seems able to do most days.

Peter’s heart races. He searches hastily for a place to hide, dismissing his bedroom out of hand. Outside is tempting, but then it’s open ground for a hundred yards. Instead he ducks into the first open door he sees, the billiard room. There he has choices: under the table, behind the curtains. Too obvious. Instead he turns to a side table with large cupboards. If he curls up, he can just barely fit.

The cupboard is cool and dark and close. He has to wrap his arms around his knees to keep from pushing the door back open. He almost wishes he could live in here. He likes the dark, and the quiet.

His father’s steps are heavy as he stomps down the hall, still swearing and calling for Peter. It’s easier when his father’s loud and angry like this. Sometimes he’s calm and quiet, and that’s the worst. Sometimes he’s friendly, and generous, and Peter doesn’t know what’s coming until it’s too late. That’s how his father was when he broke Peter’s wrist, crushed it so badly they had to send for the doctor. They’d made some excuse about roughhousing, and Peter knew better than to say otherwise.

Peter wishes he could be alone, and not for the first time. He wishes he could stay in his room and read his books, maybe take the boat out on the lake. He’s never had the boat to himself, but he thinks he could manage. He’d like to try it someday soon.

He bites his lip, because the footsteps are coming closer, so close he swears the cabinet shakes. His father stalks over to the windows, and the curtains make a swooshing sound as he yanks them open.

“You’d better come out, boy,” his father growls. “If you know what’s good for you.”

Peter holds his breath, and waits.

The footsteps stop by the billiard table, then circle around the room, coming closer and closer. Peter’s heartbeat is so loud he can hear it, taste it. His father pauses, considering. _Please, please go away,_ Peter prays.

A boot slams into the cupboard door, and Peter screams. Laughing, his father yanks the door open and seizes him by the leg, hauling him out onto his back. Peter curls around himself on instinct.  

“Thought you could hide, didn’t you?” he crows.

His father pulls back for the first kick, but Peter rolls past him, darting for the door. A hand snatches at his collar. Peter ducks out of the grip and slams the door behind him. He dashes through the first corridor he sees, eyes clouded with tears. To his right is a water closet—he locks the door behind him and considers, panting.

 _“Boy!_  Open this door  _now!”_  his father thunders, fists bashing against the wood.

The door is thin, decorative, and his father is a very large man; Peter doesn’t have long until it breaks. There’s a window, though. They’re on the second floor, but falling can’t be worse than this.

“BOY!”

Peter  _burns_ —with anger, with fear, with  _hate_. All he wanted was to be alone, and he can’t have that. He didn’t even  _do_  anything. Peter burns and burns, until something cold creeps over him.

It feels like fog rolling across the lake on an chill morning. It feels like the cool darkness inside the cupboard. It feels like being held in a soft embrace, but also like being alone in the world. Peter closes his eyes and lets himself imagine it’s true. That he’s safe, and no one can harm him. That no one can do anything to him at all.

When he opens his eyes, he’s alone in a field of grass. There’s no one for miles, he realizes, with the certainty of a dream. He could scream if he wanted to. He could lie down in the soft grass and sleep for hours. He’s never been so alone in his life, and it’s beautiful.

Silence wraps around Peter like a blanket, and he sits and savors the feeling of utter loneliness.


End file.
